Chapter 5 - Rebecca’s DealMark was arrested before noon.
Deputy Ruiz arranged for us to stay temporarily at a small hotel used by the county for protected witnesses and families in emergency situations.
Calling us protected witnesses felt ridiculous.
Then I looked again at the photograph of our house.
Someone had been outside.
Watching.
The hotel room had two beds, beige curtains, and an air conditioner that rattled every thirty seconds.
Lily slept between Natalie and me.
Neither of us slept.
At 3:10 a.m., Natalie whispered, “You’re angry with me.”
“Yes.”
She flinched.
I immediately hated the sharpness in my answer.
“I’m angry you had to carry this alone,” I said. “And I’m angry you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”
“I trusted you.”
“Then why?”
“Because you loved him.”
That hurt.
Because it was true.
My relationship with Dad had never been warm, but I spent most of adulthood trying to earn a version of his approval that probably didn’t exist.
Every Christmas gift.
Every Sunday dinner.
Every time he insulted Natalie and I called it “his generation.”
Every time Rebecca borrowed money and I agreed because “family helps family.”
I had defended the structure even while complaining about the people inside it.
Natalie touched my hand.
“I thought telling you would make you choose.”
“Between you and him?”
“Yes.”
“You thought I’d choose him?”
She didn’t answer.
That answer hurt more.
At seven the next morning, detectives arrived.
Detective Marcus Shaw was broad-shouldered, calm, and looked like he hadn’t slept either.
His partner, Detective Helen Park, carried three folders and a laptop.
They explained that the USB was more serious than expected.
Financial records suggested my father had been running fraudulent transactions through shell companies.
Several properties were held under names of relatives who apparently didn’t know they owned them.
One was mine.
Shaw turned the laptop toward me.
A limited-liability company called DLM Residential Holdings had been registered seven years earlier.
“DLM,” Park said. “Daniel Lee Mercer.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It owns three rental properties.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“Richmond, Norfolk, and Charlottesville.”
“I don’t own rental properties.”
“On paper, you do.”
Natalie squeezed my hand.
Park continued.
“Mortgages are attached to all three.”
“How much?”
“Approximately nine hundred thousand dollars total.”
For several seconds I heard nothing.
Then: “Am I liable?”
“We don’t know yet. The signatures may be forged.”
May.
A tiny word capable of ruining a life.
Shaw slid another document toward me.
“Your father’s company appears to have collected rent while liabilities stayed attached to your identity.”
I stared at my forged signature.
It looked almost perfect.
That frightened me.
Dad knew how I signed my name because he had watched me do it since I was a child.
“What about Rebecca?”
Park and Shaw exchanged looks.
“She owns two similar entities.”
“Does she know?”
“We believe she does.”
Of course.
My sister had spent years living far beyond her income.
Designer bags.
Trips.
A new SUV every two years.
When I questioned it, Mom said Rebecca’s husband earned more than I thought.
Mark was an insurance adjuster.
Apparently I had been an idiot.
“What happens now?”
“We build the case,” Shaw said.
“And Dad?”
“We find him.”
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
This time a voicemail.
Shaw told me not to play it privately.
He connected the phone to a recorder.
Dad’s voice filled the room.
“Daniel. You’re upset. I understand that. But the police are turning a family misunderstanding into something it isn’t.”
Shaw paused the recording.
“A family misunderstanding?”
Natalie looked sick.
He resumed.
“Rebecca should not have grabbed Lily. I’ve told her that. But Lily was in a private room accessing confidential business files. I restrained her because she was hysterical.”
I clenched my fists.
“Hear how he changes language?” Park said quietly.
I looked at her.
“Grabbed. Restrained. Confidential.”
She nodded.
“Minimization.”
Dad continued.
“You’ve always been emotional when it comes to Natalie. She knows that. She has used it before.”
Natalie shut her eyes.
“If you care about your daughter’s future, you will stop this now. Withdraw your accusation. Tell police Lily was confused. We’ll handle Rebecca privately.”
The voicemail ended.
Nobody spoke.
Finally I said, “He thinks I’m still twelve.”
Shaw leaned forward.
“Men like your father sometimes survive because people keep reacting according to old family roles.”
“What do you need from me?”
“Documents. Emails. Financial records. Anything connecting him to your identity.”
“I’ll give you everything.”
Natalie nodded.
“So will I.”
There was a knock.
A uniformed officer entered.
“Detective?”
He whispered something to Shaw.
Shaw’s face tightened.
“What?”
The officer handed him a photograph.
Shaw looked at me.
“Your father’s truck was located.”
“Where?”
“Near the James River.”
A cold sensation moved through my chest.
“Was he inside?”
“No.”
The driver’s door was open.
His phone was on the seat.
Wallet inside the console.
A shoe near the riverbank.
Mom immediately believed he was dead.
She called me screaming.
“This is because of you!”
I sat on the edge of the hotel bed while Natalie took Lily to breakfast downstairs.
“Mom.”
“You drove him to this.”
“I didn’t make Dad steal money.”
“You don’t know what happened.”
“I know he helped hurt my daughter.”
“She was acting wild!”
I went silent.
“What?”
Mom began crying.
“She wouldn’t listen.”
It took a second.
Then I understood.
“You were there.”
Silence.
“Mom.”
“I didn’t touch her.”
“You were in the laundry room?”
“No.”
“You just said she wouldn’t listen.”
“I heard Rebecca talking.”
“From where?”
She sobbed.
“I don’t remember.”
I stood.
“Yes, you do.”
“Daniel, your father may be dead.”
“And you are still lying for him.”
I hung up.
Detective Park had heard enough.
“She needs another interview.”
Before she could leave, Shaw’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked directly at me.
“They found security footage near the river.”
My mouth went dry.
“Did he go in?”
“No.”
Shaw turned the laptop around.
Grainy surveillance showed my father’s truck stopping beside the river at 2:13 a.m.
Dad got out.
Placed his phone inside.
Dropped one shoe near the bank.
Then walked two hundred yards down the road.
A black SUV pulled up.
He climbed inside.
The vehicle drove away.
My father hadn’t killed himself.
He had staged a disappearance.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
Park zoomed in on the SUV.
The driver stepped briefly beneath a streetlight.
I recognized him immediately.
May you like
My sister’s husband.
Mark.
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